


SG-7 in The Call

by MrProphet



Series: Stargate SG-7 - Season 1 [1]
Category: Cthulhu Mythos - H. P. Lovecraft, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s), Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 15:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10744212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet
Summary: SG-7 are my only original characters to date to appear in a fanfic of their fanfic.The author freely acknowledges that the comments on relativity contained within this work are pure codswallop.





	SG-7 in The Call

_P8F-951_

With a rumble like thunder and a blast of foam the Stargate came to life. Seven chevrons glowed red, indicating the arrival of an interstellar wormhole, piercing the fabric of space-time to forge a link between distant stars.

The event horizon rippled, and four figures emerged, dressed in the olive-green field fatigues and caps of the US Air Force. They were armed for a fight – pistols rode on one hip, zat'nik'tels on the other; FN-Herstal P90 personal defence weapons hung on straps around their necks – but they did not carry themselves as invaders would. They wore patches on their right arms bearing the logo of a triangle crowned by a circle and the legend 'SG-7'.

"Whoa!" Lieutenant-Colonel Louis Ferretti yelled, recoiling from the squat, squamous figure that eyed him with a malevolent gaze.

"Interesting," Merlyn said, crouching down and laying her hand on the carved stone of an almost identical figure. "Feels slick," she noted. "Smooth; wet." She rubbed her fingers together. "It's not though. Extraordinary material. No wonder the people hear used it to carve idols of their gods."

"That's a god?" Roberts asked, disbelieving. "More like a...demon. It's hideous, Merlyn," he said, frankly.

"Who said gods were supposed to be beautiful?" Merlyn asked. "Aside from the Goa'uld of course."

"I've seen something like it before," Pearson mused.

Merlyn nodded. "P2E triple-one. Four images of the primordial frog-deities; Amun, Kuk, Nun and Huh. These are different though; more...tentacle-y."

Ferretti crouched down a little and matched his gaze to that of the statue. He swayed gently from side to side. "The eyes somehow seem to follow you when you move. They're creepy," he decided, pronouncing the judgement with stern finality. "Let's go."

"There are some carvings on these statues I'd like to get video of, Sir," Merlyn argued. "And the statues themselves...We should at least take a sample for the geology lab."

Ferretti grimaced, recognising an argument that he was not going to win. "Alright, Lloyd. Take some holiday snaps of the ugly statues. Sergeant; a rock sample if you would; and be careful. We don't know who might worship these nasty critters."

"Sir," Pearson replied.

Ferretti sat down on a rock and watched his team. Sergeant Pearson knelt in front of one of the figures and rummaged in his pack for his tools. It would take him several minutes to find what he needed, Ferretti knew, since his ability to locate anything within his over-stuffed kitbag was somehow inversely related to the urgency of his doing so. Merlyn, who had one of the most organised minds that Ferretti had ever come across, simply reached into one of the pockets of her fatigues and pulled out a compact digital video camera. Roberts stayed on his feet, circling slowly and watching the horizon with his sharp, blue eyes.

They were an odd bunch, he mused, even by the SGC's standards. Technical Sergeant Alexander Pearson was enough of an anomaly by himself. Enlisted personnel were rarely assigned to expeditionary teams, but the young man's skills were of greater use in the field than on base. Then there was Lieutenant Timothy Roberts. A man of considerable talent and ability, special forces trained or Ferretti did not know his own, it made no sense that he was still a lieutenant after ten years service. Ferretti wondered what possible indiscretion could have set back such a promising career.

Finally, there was Lloyd; the recently-promoted Captain Meredith Lloyd, known to most by her Academy callsign, 'Merlyn'. She was a folklorist and linguist by training and had worked on the original Stargate project before being transferred to translation duties at Area-51. When SG-7 had lost Amy Kawalsky to SG-11 and her doctoral studies, the thirty year old had been assigned in place of the younger Captain. Some people worried about her, thought she might be a mole for the NID, and she was certainly an odd fish; cool, aloof and unnaturally disciplined in habit and action.

An odd bunch, for certain, yet with a few brief interruptions they had worked well together for almost four years now; ever since Merlyn was assigned to the team.

With a shake of his head, Ferretti turned his attention to the planet that was their new assignment. It was cold and bleak, the vegetation sparse and scrubby. There was no cloud cover, but the sky itself was a dreary, slate grey colour.

"What a foul place," Ferretti grumbled. "Why is every planet we go to either cold and wet or baking hot?"

"This is a dying world, Sir," Pearson said, "orbiting a dying star. The sun is only half as bright as our own; that's why the light is dim and the plant life is so poor." The sergeant put his chisel to the stone.

"So why in the hell are we here?" Ferretti demanded, gracelessly.

"Because the UAV found signs of human habitation, Sir," Merlyn reminded him, folding up her camera and slipping it away. "We're here to find out why they're still here and – if they don't know about the Stargate – to give them the chance to evacuate this death world through it."

"I know," Ferretti grumbled. "So which way first?"

"There's a river only three hundred yards to the left," Roberts replied. "We follow that to the coast where the UAV spotted the village."

Ferretti nodded. "Okay, Pearson. You got what you need?"

"I can't seem to dent this stuff, Sir," Pearson admitted. "Not even with a diamond-edged chisel." He packed his tools away. "I'll see if Sergeant Siler can provide anything better when we come back. Nothing I've got here will do the job."

"Alright," Ferretti said, without enthusiasm. "Let's go and take a look at this town of ours. With any luck we can be back by dinner time." Out of habit he raised his sunglasses to his face, then tucked them into his pocket with a sour laugh.

Roberts took point as the team made its way to the river and turned south towards the sea. Even the water on this world looked somehow duller than on Earth, and although their analysis told them it was safe to drink it tasted flat and seemed to exacerbate instead of quenching their thirst. Ferretti found his eyes wandering towards Merlyn as they walked and he realised that this was because her striking red hair provided almost the only patch of colour for miles around.

At last the flatness of the terrain was relieved by a steep incline which rose up to their right, while the river ran down to their left and rushed towards the sea. The village was just a mile further along the course of the river, but on an impulse Ferretti called Roberts back and turned the team's course to the right.

"I want to take a look before we go in there," he explained. "No point being unprepared. We should get a good view from up there and if anyone takes offence we can always tell them that we'd only just spotted their town."

During the climb, Ferretti moved up to walk point alongside Roberts. "This is a vile place," he said.

"We do seem to get the choice locations," Roberts agreed. "I guess that's what happens when you're the second-string."

"I don't like to think of us as the second string," Ferretti replied. "Someone's got to be around to do the dirty work."

Roberts gave a half-smile. "Does it have to be us?"

"Always has been before, Lieutenant. I see no reason to change habits at my advanced age." He looked around and just had to turn and take a glance at Merlyn's hair for fear that the unrelieved grey of 951 would be burned onto his retinas. "Have you seen _anything_ move around here."

"Not a thing, Sir," Roberts admitted. He sounded disturbed by that. "No animals, no birds; not even a breath of wind. Sergeant Pearson may say this place is dying; I'd call it _dead_. Makes my blood run cold."

"I thought you liked the quiet, Roberts?"

"I do, but this isn't natural."

Ferretti nodded. "I know what you mean. It's the kind of quiet you only get when a place has been disturbed."

"When a place has seen death."

"What are you, a poet now?"

Roberts did not smile. "You know what I mean, Sir. The very air on this planet stinks of death; it's like a charnel house. If anyone _does_ live in that village I honestly don't want to meet them. I'd bet dollars to pesos that _they_ reek of the grave as well."

Ferretti gave a sad shake of his head. "Special forces," he sighed. "It does something to a man's mind. Makes him into a gothic novelist."

"Or a relentless cynic," Roberts returned, tacitly confirming that he had been in special forces but no more.

Having got more from his enquiry than was usual, Ferretti did not try another and they walked on in silence, the oppressive atmosphere of the planet weighing on them both.

 

"What a charming spot," Merlyn said, looking out over the little fishing town below them.

The town was a collection of crooked, ill-built and half-collapsed hovels stretched out at the edge of the beach, with sand dunes rising up behind it. The centrepiece of the settlement was a church of sorts, taller than the houses but no better constructed. Two wooden jetties extended into the sea, confirming the town's trade, and a handful of small rowing boats lay tied up with nets piled in the bows. There was little sign of life, but the place was not utterly deserted; from time to time figures would move from one building to another, wrapped in rags as though they were hiding from even the dull light that their sun had left to give.

"And what about that?" Pearson asked, pointing out to sea. About a mile offshore was a reef, rising high and black in sharp relief even against the charcoal grey of the water. Scraps of red coral grew along the crest of the reef.

"It's like a...a jagged flint knife, stained with blood," Roberts said. "Everything on this world is death and violence."

"Has anyone ever suggested that you need a hobby?" Ferretti asked. "Or maybe a pet. A cat, perhaps?"

"I like cats," Roberts admitted.

"Doesn't surprise me," Ferretti remarked. There was something of the feline about Roberts; a kind of reflexive violence that was worrying even for a special forces veteran such as Louis Ferretti. "Lloyd; is there any reason whatsoever that we might want to go down and visit that...foetid rat-hole."

"Their fields, Colonel," Merlyn replied, pointing down to the banks of the river where brown, scrubby plants grew in rows amidst the sand dunes.

"You call those fields?" Ferretti asked. "Have you ever been to Kansas?"

"If they can grow _anything_ in this environment then that is something we could use," Merlyn explained. "Imagine if we could plant these crops in the desert areas of Africa. Root systems to bind the soil; vegetable matter to break down and form new topsoil. It could change the face of the Earth; or at least go a long way towards alleviating world hunger."

"Alright," Ferretti sighed. "Roberts, Sergeant Pearson; pitch camp and brief General O'Neill if the SGC makes contact. Lloyd and I will go down to this quaint little seaside hideaway and make contact. If we don't report in within the hour or if there's any sign that the locals are trying to cook up a big batch of SG stew, come get us out."

"Yes, Sir," Roberts replied. "We'll set up an observation post to keep an eye on your progress and link the cameras to the SGC."

"Sure," Ferretti agreed. "You do that; and get some supper on. I don't much care for the idea of getting stuck eating...whatever they eat down there."

*

The streets of the town were unpaved tracks of sucking mud that tugged at the boots of the visitors. All of the windows on all of the houses were covered by heavy shutters, but then there was not much to look at. In the grim twilight of this world there was clearly little use for decoration and Merlyn's hair was still the only colour that Ferretti could see. The air was filled by the scent of the ocean, overlaid by the pungent aroma of fish; raw fish, boiled fish, fried fish, rotting fish; every smell Ferretti had ever associated in any way with fish hung heavy in the still air.

"I've been to a lot of places in this crazy mixed-up universe," Ferretti said, "but I don't think I've ever been anywhere as dismal as this. Not even on planets under the heel of the most brutal Goa'uld."

"Sir," Merlyn whispered; she glanced around nervously, sensing hostile eyes glaring from behind the shuttered windows. "Ix-nay on the ismal-day. We don't want to cause offence."

"Well, they're not exactly being friendly right now, are they?" Ferretti challenged. "If we were getting a warmer reception, I might be more concerned with not pissing off the..." He stopped dead as a figure shambled across the road in front of them; a woman, wrapped in a ragged cloak, who moved with an awkward, shuffling gait. She looked neither left nor right as she went, and made no reaction to either their presence or Merlyn's polite greeting.

"Excuse me, Miss!" Merlyn tried again. "Could we just..." She shook her head. "Extraordinary."

"Do you think she heard the dismal thing?"

"She was more than unfriendly," Merlyn replied. "She didn't even acknowledge us. Most people would at least have scowled or something similar."

"Maybe she's the undead."

Merlyn sounded dubious. "The undead, Sir?"

"Animated by nanites. You should read through some of our old mission reports," Ferretti suggested. As he spoke he was already walking again.

"Where are we going, Sir?" Merlyn asked, following.

"Cherche la femme, Captain," Ferretti replied, rounding the corner which the woman had taken. "Or indeed Church-ay la femme."

Directly in front of them lay the high-spired ritual building, and the woman was shambling up the steps towards the tall, wooden doors with their great, brass knockers. She stopped and raised one of the heavy rings, then brought it down sharply, three times. The sound was muffled by the thickness of the door, but in the unnatural stillness of the town it split the air like thunder. After a moment the door opened and the woman went in.

"Okay, Lloyd, you're the cultural expert."

"Yes, Sir."

"So?"

"So what, Sir?" Merlyn shook her head. "Sorry; I mean, 'so' what, Sir. Or possibly so 'what'. I'm not really sure any more."

"So what do you make of this?" Ferretti explained.

"Well...This is clearly a place of some importance, but why that woman was going..."

The air was suddenly split by a terrible shrieking noise that rang with a metallic resonance like a tubular bell.

"What the hell!" Ferretti demanded.

"I...I think it's that woman."

"What in God's name is happening to her?"

"Well, it's odd you should say that," Merlyn replied, responding to his blasphemy with a tone of disapproval. "I think it must be some kind of call to prayer. Some kind of amplifying pipe in the tower of the church. She cries into it and the echoes sound out across the town."

Merlyn's supposition was confirmed moments later, when doors around the town opened and a crowd of townsfolk shambled along the muddy streets and up to the church. As they approached, the doors were flung wide by a tall, heavily built man who moved with greater ease than the others.

"My God," Merlyn whispered, momentarily forgetting herself. She made the sign of the cross.

"It's like a German expressionist science fiction movie," Ferretti breathed.

"Sir?"

"You know; that one from the video for Radio Ga-Ga."

"Yes, Sir." Merlyn frowned. "Where are the rest of them," she wondered as the last of the townsfolk disappeared into the shadowy interior of the church. Two children lagged behind, their playful, skipping motion at odds with the shuffling of their parents. When the children had been called and entered, the doors swung shut.

"The rest?"

"There are fewer people than houses," Merlyn pointed out. "This town must be half-abandoned."

"Maybe they're just not churchgoers," Ferretti suggested.

"You saw the way they trooped in here. This is a town of fanatics, Colonel; I doubt there's anyone who doesn't go to church."

Ferretti's response was cut off as his radio crackled. "Colonel; this is Roberts. Is everything alright down there?"

"More or less," Ferretti replied. "I mean, it's all a little bit Invasion of the Bodysnatchers down here, but we're in no immediate danger."

"What was that noise, Sir?"

"Just the Belles of St Evil's. You stand by for now. Is the observation post ready?"

"Yes, Sir; although the interface is on the fritz."

"There are side windows on the church and they aren't all shuttered," Ferretti explained, ignoring the complaint. The remote observation post, with its compact suite of monitoring systems, was one of a number of new technologies to be supplied to the SGC out of Area-51. All of these advances were impressive and highly practical, but none of them seemed quite finished yet. "Can you see anything inside."

"Just a moment." There was a pause before Roberts replied: "Nothing, Sir; all I can see are shadows in candlelight. Thermal readings...The walls of that building must be inches thick; readings are sporadic and blurred."

Ferretti turned to his 2IC. "Lloyd; what's your professional opinion on this one? If we wait out here, will they speak to us when they come out?"

"It's possible," Merlyn allowed. "There may well be some stricture against speaking on the way to their temple; did you notice that even the children who were lagging behind weren't saying anything?"

"It did seem odd," Ferretti agreed. "Alright then; Roberts, hold position for now."

"Yes, Sir."

"Lloyd; let's scout around a little more while we wait, since there's nowhere to sit but in the mud."

 

They searched all around the town, but found nothing of note. The houses seemed all to be empty now, and several of them looked as though they had been that way for a long time. On some of the structures the walls were coated in mould and many had their shutters missing, presumably torn down to repair those houses that were still occupied. They peered in through these open windows, but anything of use or value had clearly been stripped along with the shutters.

After almost an hour Roberts gave them a heads up and they returned to the church to find the locals emerging. They still moved with the same awkward gait, but now they walked in small groups, talking together in soft, guttural voices, while their children ran down to the streets, laughing and playing, albeit in a somewhat muted fashion when compared to Earth children.

Merlyn saw the tall, powerful man who had opened the church doors standing at the top of the steps, deep in conversation with the woman and a younger man. "I think he must be their leader," she told her CO. "If not temporally, at least spiritually. We should talk to him first."

"You know your business," Ferretti allowed.

Merlyn led the way as they manoeuvred through the crowd.

"Hey there." Ferretti raised a hand in greeting as people turned towards them. Large, sullen eyes gazed out from sallow, wide-mouthed faces. Ferretti hurriedly caught up to Merlyn's shoulder. "I think we're definitely wading in the shallow end of the gene pool here," he murmured.

"And they say Daniel Jackson had a tough job," Merlyn whispered, a friendly smile on her face that only familiarity revealed to be forced.

Ferretti felt a shiver of anticipation run through him as the three that they were approaching paused in their conversation and turned to face these newcomers. The two men focused their attention on Merlyn – _no surprise there,_ Ferretti thought to himself – while the woman regarded Ferretti with mild disinterest, which was still a step up from the normal reaction in this place. She wore the peculiar features of the townsfolk better than most, her eyes large but not bulging, her broad mouth not unappealing. If Liv Tyler ever let her personal grooming regime slide for a few months, she might look like this woman.

The tall man stepped forward, which seemed to confirm Merlyn's supposition of his authority. Although his body was muscular, his face was soft and heavy-jowled. His eyes were too large, lending him a mad look, and his wide mouth sagged at the ends in an expression of permanent woe. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice thick and almost gurgling, like that of a much fatter man.

"My name is Captain Meredith Lloyd; United States Air Force," Merlyn replied, cutting off any remarks her CO might have chosen to pass. "This is Lieutenant-Colonel Ferretti. We are explorers from a planet called Earth who have come to your world..."

The woman drew in her breath in a sharp hiss. "These are the ones!" she exclaimed, her voice breathless but smoother than any other they had heard in this town. "The ones who came through the Eye of the Abyss!" The tall man's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Yes," Merlyn agreed, focusing on the woman now, who at least seemed not to be hostile. "Only we call it a Stargate. You saw us arrive?"

"Three nights ago," the woman agreed, and now her mouth curved into a dreamy smile, the first smile that they had seen since their arrival. "In a dream I saw you come, Captain."

"Uh-huh," Ferretti muttered, unconvinced. "In a dream?"

"Kahda is the Seer of our village," the young man explained. "My name is Tyus Ygtoi," he added. "Kahda is my sister, and this is the custodian of our temple, Diran Balak. Please forgive our bluntness. We do not get many...any visitors here. I am sure that no-one quite knows what to make of you."

Ferretti waved away the apology. "We get that all the time," he assured them.

"I am glad that you take no offence," Tyus said. Like his sister, he had a smooth voice and spoke with quiet confidence. He was also less ill-favoured than the bulk of his neighbours, and when he turned to face Merlyn he gave a warm, welcoming smile.

Merlyn cleared her throat. "If it is possible, we should like to speak with your leaders. We have much that we could offer your people and we are very interested in the crops that you are able to grow in such an unforgiving climate."

"Fascinated," Ferretti added.

"There is nothing that our people need," Diran growled. "The sea provides for us; there is nothing that outsiders can offer us."

"Yeah; I see you've got a great place here, Dearie..."

"Diran," Merlyn whispered, helpfully.

"Yeah; whatever. But surely it hasn't escaped your notice that your world is dying?"

Merlyn stifled a groan. "What the Colonel means..."

"He means that he sees our home as inferior," Diran scoffed. "He is a shallow man, who does not see the hand of God that lies upon our home. He can not see the glory...!"

"Why you little...!" Ferretti began, speaking over the custodian.

"Diran!" Tyus snapped. "Control yourself. These are our guests, their coming foretold by God through the Seer's dreams. I know it has been a long time, but there are rules and laws of hospitality to be considered."

Diran gave a guttural snarl. "You attend to them if you will," he said. "I shall perform my appointed duties and give thanks to God that they do not include 'hospitality'."

"What a sweetheart," Ferretti noted, as the church doors slammed shut once more.

"Forgive him, please," Tyus asked. "He is set in his ways and he is mistrustful of my sister. His wife was the Seer before Kahda and he has not yet adapted to her loss."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Merlyn replied. "Please extend our condolences."

"Your...? Yes, of course," Tyus agreed. He looked around at the crowd of people, who were now all staring up at the group on the steps. "Listen; perhaps it would be best if you were to camp on the bluff tonight, Colonel. Is it just you and the Captain, or are there...?"

"Four," Kahda reminded him, helpfully. She was gazing into the distance as she spoke. "There are four. Hound and Hawk; Cat and Monkey."

"Of course," Tyus said, a momentary anger flashing across his gaze. "Thank you, Kahda." He turned back to Merlyn. "I hope that you are not troubled by my sister's gifts? As I say, it is some time since we have received visitors, but our records tell us that often they are disturbed by the Seer's foreknowledge of their coming."

"No," Merlyn assured him. "It isn't the first time we've come across something like this."

Tyus nodded. "Well; as I was saying, it might be best if you were to camp up on the bluff for tonight. I shall speak to the Council of Elders and determine whether or not they will meet you. I will bring word to you in the morning."

"That is very kind of you," Merlyn replied. "I'm sure that would be agreeable."

"Yeah; great," Ferretti agreed, with poor grace. "Although if we're going to be here all night and having had a look at the terrain, we might be better off out of the wind at the foot of the..."

"No!" Tyus interrupted. "I mean...the beach is dangerous. The tides can come up very high, without warning."

"Alright then," Ferretti agreed. "The bluff it is. Lloyd; shall we."

"Until the morning then, Tyus," Merlyn said. "And thank you."

"Thank _you_ , Captain," Tyus insisted. "Your coming is the most interesting thing to happen to us for years."

As Ferretti and Merlyn moved away, the crowd parted to let them through, great, limpid eyes following them until they were out of sight.

"Well, you seemed to be a hit," Ferretti muttered as they climbed to the bluff. "Fish-boy seemed rather taken with you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sir," Merlyn replied, blushing a little. "And it would make my job easier if you didn't call him Fish-boy ever again."

"Okay; but there was something kind of..."

"Piscatorial?" Merlyn suggested.

"Fishy," Ferretti replied. "About the lot of them. Less so in your boyfriend..."

"Sir; please."

"...but still; and they're more inbred than any rednecks I ever came across." Ferretti shook his head. "Probably means nothing," he admitted. "You can't judge a book by its cover, after all. All I'll say is: at the first sign of a banjo I'm out of here."

_*_

On the bluff, Pearson stood looking out to sea, while Roberts watched the town on the observation post's monitors.

"This is kind of creepy, Sir," Roberts said as Ferretti and Merlyn approached.

"What is?"

"That girl you were talking to. She's been staring at me for the last half hour."

"May I see?" Merlyn asked.

Roberts moved to one side so that Merlyn could clearly see the screen. Sure enough, Kahda was staring straight at the scope.

"She dreamed about us too," Ferretti added. "Or about something, anyway."

"Do you think she really has some kind of precognitive ability?" Merlyn asked. "Or is it just a clever trick? We could have been seen coming through the Gate."

"Gotta be a trick," Ferretti declared. "And what was all that Horse and Hound rubbish?"

"Hound and Hawk," Merlyn corrected. "Well, a merlin is a hawk; or a falcon at least."

"That's right," Pearson agreed. "And...well...There's you and...That thing."

"What thing?"

"You know?"

"If I knew I wouldn't ask, Sergeant. What thing?"

"That thing they call you." Pearson looked very sorry to have spoken.

Ferretti's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What thing that they call you."

Roberts came to Pearson's rescue. "O'Neill's Rottweiler," he said.

Ferretti was taken aback. "I never heard that," he admitted.

"Well, we don't use it," Roberts assured him.

"I guess you'd be the Cat then," Ferretti went on. "Leaving Sergeant Pearson to be the Monkey for some reason."

"Well I am good with my hands," Pearson offered.

"It's weak," Ferretti pronouncd.

"Plus the whole prehensile tail," Pearson added, going back to his monitor.

"I guess...Wait. What?"

"I'd like to get a survey UAV sent out if we're staying," Pearson added. "I've been watching that reef and I'm sure I saw something moving out there."

"Animals?" Merlyn asked.

Pearson shrugged.

"You see; that's what baffles me, Sir. They could easily have seen us coming and cobbled together a set of lame nicknames, but in that case why animals?"

"It's traditional, isn't it?" Roberts asked.

"For us, yes," Merlyn agreed. "But these people...Well; they don't _have_ animals."

 Ferretti frowned, unhappily. "This whole planet gives me a headache," he groused. "Lloyd, you and Sergeant Pearson return to the Gate. When the General makes contact in..." he checked his watch. "In twenty minutes I'll ask for the UAV to be sent through for you to pick up."

*

The members of SG-7 took turns keeping watch that night. The survey UAV sat on its launch catapult, waiting for morning. The observation post stood ready, a light blinking ceaselessly as the proximity detection field maintained its sleepless vigil over the camp but Merlyn sat guard anyway. The airmen and women of the SGC did not yet have such faith in any of their more advanced equipment that they would entirely replace such a vital duty with machines.

As the hours wore on, Merlyn's mind wandered to the question of the Seer. Could Kahda Ygtoi truly have seen their arrival in a dream? The SGC did have documented evidence of extrasensory powers – the Goa'uld Nirrti's experiments, including those carried out on Jonas Quinn; the Seeresses of Delphia – but Merlyn had never encountered such a power that took so mystical and symbolic a form. She was yet more disturbed by Tyus' statement that their coming had been 'foretold by God'.

A devout Catholic, Merlyn feared the day when her own faith would be tested, as that of so many worlds had been tested before now by the arrival of SG teams who challenged their gods. Would this be the day? Was this girl touched in the same way as a saint might be, and what would it mean to her faith if she were touched by something quite ungodly? On the other hand, if miracles could be performed and explained by science, then what did that leave to faith?

Merlyn shivered, and closed her hand on the crucifix at her throat for comfort.

Shortly before Roberts was due to relieve her for the graveyard watch, Merlyn was roused from her gloomy thoughts by a movement past the end of the bluff. She rose to her feet, P90 held loose but ready in her hands, and walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea. What she saw was so extraordinary that she could not believe it at first. She had to pull out her field glasses and check, but through the lenses she saw exactly what she had seen with her naked eyes.

A mile offshore the reef – so black by day – was alive with light. Fires burned along the crest and some manner of phosphorescence, an eerie, greenish glow in the water behind the reef, cast the jagged line of coral into stark silhouette. Against this glow also, figures moved up and down across the jagged wall; alternately bleached pale in the moonlight and stained a ghastly jade by the glow from the water. In form they were human, yet their movements were strange and ungainly; somewhere between a hop and a shuffle. Merlyn could hear nothing save for the roar of the surf, but the figures seemed to be dancing and the sea...

The sea was black, but within the arms of the reef it had been changed to silver. The waters, still and sheltered behind the black reef, teemed with darting fish that glittered under the half moon. Here and there the massed shoals parted, and Merlyn saw that the fishing boats from the village were cutting hither and yon across the bay, scooping up food at their leisure. As Diran Balak had insisted, the sea did provide for all their needs. Strange that the seas should retain such fecundity on this dead world.

Merlyn, a practical woman with no time for the vacillations of indecision or shock, gathered her thoughts swiftly. She turned from the cliff edge and walked to the observation post, intending to shift its focus in order that she could obtain and record thermal scans and light intensified images of the activity on the reef and in the bay. She had a strong feeling in her gut that there was more going on here than a simple fishing expedition.

As her hand moved to switch off the monitors however, Merlyn froze. There was a shape, dead in the centre of the scope. It was shrouded in shadows but...

Merlyn switched the display to light intensification and her suspicion was confirmed. There, staring out of the scope at her, was the ragged form of Kahda Ygtoi. Even at this distance, Merlyn could almost feel the young woman's gaze upon her, and it made her shiver. She stared at the small figure, the reef momentarily forgotten.

A sound behind her broke Merlyn's concentration. She felt stiff and her head was heavy; she wanted to turn at once, but was unable to muster the energy to move until after Roberts had risen from his bedroll. Apparently thinking she had seen a threat of some kind, the lieutenant came up to Merlyn's shoulder and looked at the monitor.

"Is she still there?" he asked, disbelieving. "She must have been to sleep at some point, surely."

"I don't know," Merlyn replied. "I only just noticed her. Help me move the post, Roberts. I need to get a look at the reef."

"What about it," Roberts asked, already starting to secure the monitors for a move.

"The lights..." Merlyn began, but she had turned back to the cliff edge and there was no sign of the light now; no sign at all. "Never mind," she said. "Leave it where it is. Maybe I just need some sleep."

"Are you alright, Merlyn?"

"I don't know," Merlyn admitted. "Keep half an eye on that reef for me, will you. Wake me if you see anything."

Roberts frowned. "Do you want me to turn the monitors on it?"

"No," she replied. "Keep that on the town, just in case. Just wake me if you see anything out by the reef."

*

In the morning, SG-7 ate a sullen breakfast in the grim light of this world.

"I swear," Ferretti grumbled. "I don't care what the benefits are; if we don't have an agricultural treaty signed by this evening we're leaving. Anything happen overnight?"

"There's something odd here, Sir," Merlyn said. "Something to do with that reef. I'm sure I saw something out there last night; lights underwater and torches..."

"Some kind of ritual?" Ferretti asked. "Glowing fungus worship, perhaps," he suggested. He turned to Pearson. "Remember that; on that night planet where they worshipped cave fungus?"

"Yes, Sir," Pearson agreed. "Happy days."

"Maybe that's all," Merlyn allowed. "But the figures I saw out there did not look human and the lights vanished too quickly to have been natural luminescence."

"Also," Roberts added, "that girl...Sorry; that young woman has been watching us all night. She's still there this morning."

Merlyn tapped her spork thoughtfully on the edge of her ration pack. "I suppose the light might have been generated by something _mobile_ ," she suggested.

"Mobile?" Ferretti did not sound enthusiastic about that idea.

"A deep sea squid perhaps; or a jellyfish shoal. If its appearance were a cyclical event then it could form the heart of a ritual calendar for these people."

"They time their festivals by squid?" Ferretti asked. "And what would they be worshipping?"

"A culture like this, reliant on the sea; they'd probably worship the sea itself. Or maybe the squid. That could explain the cephalopodan deity depicted at the Stargate."

"Cephaly...Lloyd; the rest of us are simple soldiers," Ferretti complained.

"Squid- or octopus-like," Merlyn explained.

"Well; we'll send up the UAV after breakfast and see what it shows us," Ferretti suggested.

 

Merlyn and Pearson huddled around the screen while Ferretti stood watching the UAV itself in flight. Roberts was looking the other way, keeping watch while the others worked.

"Bring it a little more to the left," Ferretti advised.

"Sir," Pearson agreed, ignoring his CO almost entirely. The UAV was cruising low over the water, the wide angle camera catching the width of the reef. "No sign of burning," Pearson said. "But there might not be if the water has been over it since then. Besides which, it's all pretty..."

"Black?" Merlyn suggested.

"That's the one."

"What's that!" Merlyn pointed at the screen. "Back up! Back up!"

"It's a live feed, Captain," Ferretti reminded her.

"That's true, Sir," Pearson agreed, "but the system can playback and record at the same time; like a TiVo." He touched the screen controls; a small picture appeared in the corner of the screen so that he could continue to control the flight while the main screen rewound.

Ferretti scowled. "Neat."

"There," Merlyn said, touching the screen to pause the image.

"Is that a person?" Ferretti asked.

"I don't think so," Pearson said. "It's kind of the right shape but..." He ran the picture again. "Look at the way it moves, swinging side to side like that."

"I've seen something like that before," Merlyn said. "I know I have."

"Oh!" Ferretti said. "That film with the guy from Gladiator!"

"Huh?" Merlyn asked, quickly adding: "Sir?"

"With the sailing ship. Master and Commander; that was it. The big swimming lizards."

"That's right," Pearson said. "Galapagos marine iguanas. But look at the size of that thing! I've got enough fuel to make a couple more passes; I'll see if we can see any more of the things."

"I thought there weren't any animals on this godforsaken piece of rock," Ferretti said.

"Not on land or in the air," Merlyn agreed. "But with the number of fish I saw last night, the ocean could still be teeming with life. That would support the theory of a religion based on ocean life."

"Which still leaves one question," Roberts noted, without turning toward his comrades. "If these people worship the squid, how did one of them get some divinely inspired dream of our arrival? Is it a magic squid?"

"Well..." Pearson began.

"Sergeant?" Ferretti asked.

"Well; as you know, travelling through the Stargate means that you – or at least your component molecules – are moving much faster than the speed of light. As I understand the theory, this is what allows for the Gate to enable time travel; in very specific circumstances. If you were to have the correct sensor equipment, the nature of relativity would allow you – and I stress that this is highly theoretical – to not only detect who is coming through an incoming wormhole ahead of their arrival, but to actually detect who is coming _before they enter the event horizon of the outgoing wormhole_. By extension, you should be able to detect, at any time, _everyone_ who will _ever_ pass through a given Stargate. Creepy, huh?"

"Very," Ferretti agreed.

"So you're saying that all Gate travel is predestined?" Merlyn asked.

"No," Pearson replied. "Just...detectable in a relativistic sense. Actually detecting even _current_ incoming travellers is beyond the technology of any race we have encountered. It's just a theory."

"Just a theory?" Ferretti asked.

"Theoretically."

"So is it in any way relevant?"

Pearson shrugged. "I'm just saying that if there's something out there making like a god, maybe – just maybe – it could have sensed our arrival ahead of time and sent a warning and perhaps a set of instructions to this Kahda. They may always have used the Seers this way."

"So who could it be?" Merlyn wondered.

"The Oannes?" Roberts suggested. "They had the technology to access memories and minds and they were fishy."

"Yeah; they also kidnapped Dr Jackson and messed with SG-1's brains. Circle the UAV further out," Ferretti ordered. "If there's anything out there, I want to know about it."

*

Ferretti's watch said eleven o'clock by the time Tyus arrived, for as much as that meant anything. _Gate lag's a bitch_ , he mused.

"Good morning, Tyus," Merlyn greeted the young man.

"Good morning, Captain."

"Please; call me Merlyn. Everyone does."

"Alright then, Merlyn," Tyus replied with a smile. "I am very pleased to be able to invite you all to join the village for a feast this evening. The catch was good last night; we will celebrate and give thanks for the bounty of the ocean and we would be glad if our visitors from afar would join us."

"Will your elders be there?" Ferretti asked, bluntly.

"I am afraid that the elders are rather too fragile for such a lively event," Tyus apologised. "However, I have spoken to them, and they have given _me_ the authority to negotiate on their behalf. Hopefully we can reach an accord in such amenable circumstances."

"Why not start now?"

Merlyn laughed, lightly. "We would be glad to attend," she assured Tyus, "although we will have to consult with our superiors beforehand," she added, giving her CO a less offensive get-out clause. "In the meantime, perhaps you could answer a few questions."

"If I can."

"The reef," Merlyn began. "Do your people ever perform rituals on the reef itself?"

"No-one goes out there," Tyus replied.

"Really? Only I thought I saw something out there last night; I thought it might be a sort of harvest festival."

"No, no," Tyus replied. "Our harvest festival will be held tonight. The reef is too dangerous. Very occasionally, some of the older children dare each other to swim out there, but there are no festivals. Besides; last night all of our people were manning the boats or waiting on the jetties to receive the nets."

"I could have sworn..."

"You must have been mistaken," Tyus insisted. "It is not unusual. The rocks and coral have formed extraordinary shapes; it is not unknown for our own people to see things that are not there when the moon shines and the waves break over the crests."

"And the light beyond the reef?"

"Jellyfish," Tyus replied, glibly.

"Merlyn," Ferretti said, gesturing for her to let the subject lie.

"Of course," Merlyn said.

"Well, I must return home now, but we shall hope to see you tonight," Tyus told them. "Please do let us know if you must leave before then."

"We shall," Merlyn promised.

"I hope that you will be able to attend," Tyus added. "To be honest, I think that a great many people in the village have seen your arrival as a good omen; some even think your coming may have caused the wealth of the catch last night."

"Oh!" Merlyn exclaimed. "Well we couldn't claim any responsibility..."

"I quite understand; nevertheless, you will find your reception a good deal warmer this time around." He paused a moment. "I am particularly looking forward to _your_ company, Captain," he admitted.

"It's very kind of you to say so, Tyus," Merlyn assured him, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

"Just say the word," Ferretti whispered, as Tyus walked away down the slope. "We can be gone by the time he gets back to the village."

"Thank you, Sir," Merlyn replied, "but I think I can handle one amorous fisherman. It's not like I haven't had the practice," she added, rolling her eyes. It was certainly true that Merlyn attracted more attention from the men of the worlds SG-7 visited than even Captain Kawalsky had done. It was also true that she was getting better at dealing with it; she was hardly even blushing now, where a year ago she would have been as red as a beetroot.

"Sir...Sirs," Pearson called. "You might want to take a look at this."

The three officers walked over to the UAV's control station.

"The plane came down a few minutes ago but on the last sweep I switched to the thermal cameras and ground-penetrating radar. Take a look at the images I got back." The sergeant touched the screens and the digital recordings began to play back on a split-screen. On the left, a false-colour thermal image showed the reef as an orange stripe in a pale mauve ocean, the stone and coral warmer than the surrounding water. As the UAV slid overhead, a dull, reddish-orange shape came into shot, man-sized but swimming in that peculiar, sinuous fashion.

"Colder than a human," Pearson said. "That's muscle heat; possibly a cold-blooded animal."

"Could be an iguana," Merlyn suggested. "I mean...a _big_ iguana."

"With no tail," Roberts mentioned.

"We are on an alien planet," Merlyn reminded the lieutenant.

"Well, that's as maybe," Pearson said. "But look at the radar."

The right hand side of the screen showed the results of the GPR. Like the thermal scan, this image had been false-coloured for clarity, marking out the coral promontories and patches of higher density cold water. Then something else appeared; a shape denoted by a bright green.

"What is that?" Ferretti asked.

"That is not natural," Roberts said. "Is it?"

"Not a chance," Pearson replied, pausing the image with the shape centred in the screen. "It's too regular; the shape is like no structure I ever saw on earth, but the edges are too clean to be natural. That was man-...Well, something made it," he amended. "I couldn't swear it was a human being. It's not the only one, either." He let the playback run on, and they saw another, larger structure, and then a third, too large to even fit on the screen.

"How deep are they?" Merlyn asked.

"About a hundred feet down," Pearson replied. "There's a drop-off just behind the reef; a big one. The ocean bed's too far down to scan, but the top of the largest structures are a hundred feet below the waves."

"Jesus," Ferretti whispered

This blasphemy drew another scowl from his 2IC and provoked her to cross herself once more. Still, she could not deny that these cyclopean structures were of an impressive size. "How far down can we scan?"

"We're getting a clear image as far as seven hundred feet. These structures definitely penetrate further down than that."

Roberts whistled, softly. "That's some deep oceans."

Pearson nodded. "These things must be bigger than any structure we've ever come across."

"Not necessarily," Merlyn replied. "To judge by the spacing and the shape...The ones that lie the furthest out are probably only about the half the size of the pyramid on P7X-377."

"The one that belonged to the giant smoke aliens?" Ferretti asked.

Merlyn nodded. "That's really quite a drop-off, though," she commented. "I doubt that would be entirely natural either."

"I'd agree with that," Pearson acknowledged. "Unless...there might be some kind of tectonic fault out there. If we were sitting right on a fault line, that could explain the disjuncture, and the reef formation. From the ground-scanning tomograph, that could well be basalt under the coral."

"And they built _those_ buildings on a geological fault?"

Pearson shrugged. "This planet is dying, Captain. Who knows how much geological activity it has left in it?"

"Well, it's pretty much academic since they're long drowned," Ferretti said. "We'll take the scans back for SG-15 to pore over but for now we should keep our focus on the living."

"Yes, Sir," Merlyn agreed. "Will we be attending the feast tonight?"

Ferretti sighed. "I suppose there's no avoiding it. Yes, Captain; we'll go down to the town and eat fish. But everyone be on your toes," he cautioned, darkly, turning a wry gaze on his number two. "And whatever you do, don't touch the hooch." Roberts and Pearson gave a chuckle.

"No, Sir," Merlyn replied, ruefully, reluctantly recalling her one major lapse in her career at the SGC.

*

The villagers were a strange bunch; strange and slightly seedy. They sat around a great firepit, at a square of wooden tables, the firelight lending an eerie cast to the whole scene.

With only two exceptions, the townsfolk were dressed in the same shabby robes that Tyus sported, although his were actually the finest of the bunch; it seemed that there was no clothing industry of any kind in the village. The townsfolk themselves were quite extraordinary in appearance: Their skin was pale, venous and extremely smooth, almost like a tide-worn pebble. Their hair was dark and worn long – men and women alike – hanging in heavy, tangled dreadlocks. They all had huge eyes; wide, dark and almost perfectly circular.

The eyes of most of the men clung leeringly to Merlyn, while those of the women were divided between the male members of SG-7. Creepy though they were, it was to Ferretti's great annoyance that he realised he was getting a half-share of those looks.

The exceptions to the sartorial generalities were Diran Balak and Kahda Ygtoi. The custodian was bald-headed, and dressed in a heavy, antique black robe, making him look like a great, black vulture where he crouched over his plate. He kept casting fierce glowers at SG-7, picking at his food as though it had no savour for him; a curiosity, since even Ferretti was forced to admit that years on an all-fish diet had left the townsfolk with a range of delicious seafood recipes.

"I do not trust that man," Ferretti whispered, redundantly.

"I don't think he trusts us," Pearson replied.

For all the custodian's brooding melodrama, it was Kahda who truly stood out from the crowd. She sat beside her brother, wearing a blood red dress that exposed one of her shoulders and left her porcelain-skinned arms bare. Her hair was washed, combed back and held in a mother-of-pearl clasp, and she wore a shawl around her shoulders. It looked like wool, although the absence of any sheep suggested that it was woven from whatever plant fibres had been used in the robes of the other villagers.

Where that dress came from in this sartorial void was uncertain, but it was much easier to say why she was wearing it. She had insisted that Roberts sit beside her and had taken the first opportunity to wind her fingers in his. Roberts was not complaining, but then Ferretti could see why he would not; cleaned up, she was quite attractive, and between her huge eyes and broad, smiling mouth there was something fascinating, if not actually beautiful, about her face. If Ferretti knew the lieutenant, Roberts would be taking best advantage of the young seer's evident infatuation to learn everything he could about the town.

Merlyn probably could have learned as much from Tyus, had she Roberts' social ease. As it was, she was too preoccupied deflecting Tyus' attentions to ask any searching questions. Again, Ferretti could hardly blame her. While she did receive a lot of attention, it was rarely as intense as this. He wondered if this was related to the fact that her hair was the most colourful thing that any of the villagers had ever seen. Pearson was getting a fair few stares as well and Ferretti assumed that they must never have seen a black man before. Not that they were precisely white themselves; more grey.

"No, dear Captain, we are never hungry here," Tyus was assuring Merlyn, his arm once more lying across her shoulders. Once more, she subtly shrugged him off by reaching for another tiny helping of fish pie. She was never taking more than a spoonful of anything, always giving her an excuse to reach away from Tyus.

Clearly Tyus had rumbled her strategy, because he spooned up a large serving of a spiced fish stew and deposited it on Merlyn's place. "Here, Captain; try a little of the yahg. It is rather excellent. My sister made it herself."

"I had no idea that a seer's talents would extend to cooking," Roberts gasped, sounding impressed.

Kahda blushed, delightedly.

"Tyus?" Merlyn asked, wriggling her shoulders to try and escape from his persistent embrace. "Our surveys located what appeared to be a city out beyond the reef. Do your people know anything about such a place?"

Tyus laughed. "A city behind the reef? Well yes, I suppose we do; if you include old children's stories."

"Absolutely," Merlyn assured him. "Children's stories are my forte, Mr Ygtoi..."

"Tyus," he insisted.

Merlyn coughed, awkwardly. "Tyus, of course. I'm a folklorist. I study old tales of all kinds. Some of the most important things end up only being remembered in children's stories and old wives' tales."

Tyus looked uncomfortable, as though he regretted acknowledging that there were stories. "Well," he said, speaking with deliberately tedious slowness. "There are stories of a city out beyond the reef, yes. They say that our people once lived in a glittering city that stood on an island in the mouth of the bay; that is all, really."

"It was a golden empire," Kahda added. "The weather was warm, the sun bright and the sky blue. Our people enjoyed prosperity and plenty; there were machines to fulfil our every need."

"So what happened?" Merlyn asked.

"The people grew arrogant and prideful," the girl replied, turning her face away from Roberts for a moment, her great, dark eyes staring into the middle distance as though lost in recollection; or as though watching something that no-one else could see. "They failed to make the proper offerings and sacrifices to the sea and so the wrath of God descended on them and their city was swallowed up by the sea. The survivors came to land and made their home here."

Tyus laughed, although the sound was a little forced. "And they say that the ruins are now home to a race of monsters," he added in a sepulchral voice. "Who rise from their watery halls to steal virgins from their beds and offer them up as sacrifices to their vile, squamous gods."

"Tyus!" Kahda said, sharply.

"They are just stories, Kahda," Tyus insisted. "Actually, if I am accurate then the monsters rise from their watery halls to steal away virgins who disobey their fathers."

"But, Tyus..." Kahda started.

"Or their brothers," Tyus finished, with a meaningful glower, "should tragedy have claimed their parents."

Something was very strange here, Merlyn felt, but for some reason she could not put her finger on it. Her head seemed heavy and light at the same time and she could not focus her thoughts. She had been careful to avoid the drink, but still she felt slightly tipsy. Perhaps there was something alcoholic in the food. Later on of course, Merlyn would realise that, if she had _not_ been drugged, she might have considered the possibility that she had been drugged.

"It sounds..." Ferretti shook his head, trying to clear it. "It sounds like there isn't much mileage in being a virgin on this planet."

"Not much," Kahda agreed, hooking her arm through Roberts'.

"Ain't that always the way?" Roberts asked.

"There is more to life than...that," Merlyn told her comrades, her voice sharper than she had intended.

Tyus looked at her, shrewdly, but said nothing. Instead he turned to the custodian, whose glower had become a look of almost ravenous glee.

"Ah, man," Ferretti groaned. "I am bushed. We should head back to camp."

"Yes!" Merlyn agreed. She pulled away from Tyus and almost leaped to her feet. Her head spun and she stumbled.

"Please," Tyus said. "There is no need. We have prepared a place for you to rest in the village. I assure you, you will be most comfortable."

"There's no need," Ferretti assured him, as Merlyn steadied herself.

"Do not be afraid," Tyus laughed. "I know that we do not live lives of luxury, but we have given of our best to make you feel welcome. Please do not insult us."

"He's right, Sir," Merlyn agreed. "We shouldn't refuse."

"Alright, then," Ferretti sighed. "As long as it's warm, I don't mind."

"I will show you the way," Tyus offered. He stood and offered Merlyn his arm.

"We shouldn't refuse," Ferretti told the Captain, when she looked an appeal in his direction.

Merlyn scowled at Ferretti, but took the proffered arm. The rest of SG-7 stood, Kahda following suit, keeping her hand on Roberts' arm. They followed Tyus away from the fire, blithely unaware that all conversation was stilled the moment they left, and that each pair of pellucid eyes was following their departure.

Roberts allowed Kahda to draw him to the back of the group with just a slight pressure on his bicep. As they left the square and moved between the houses, the light of the fire vanished and they stood in almost total darkness. Only the footsteps up ahead told Roberts where his team mates were.

"Wait," Kahda murmured. Her pale face seemed almost luminous as it hung before him. "You can join them later, Tim."

Roberts frowned, suspiciously. "Did I...? How do you know my name...?"

Kahda leaned close and kissed Roberts. She tasted of salt and fish, and while that combination was not among Roberts' top ten sexiest flavours, he could not help responding.

"Forget your fears," Kahda whispered, fixing him with her huge, hypnotic eyes. "Forget everything but me."

Roberts stared helplessly, caught like a jackrabbit in the headlights of a car.

"Now follow." Kahda took his hand and drew him away into the night.

*

Ferretti lay down heavily on one of the beds in the hut SG-7 had been given. His limbs were as heavy as lead and he felt as though his head was packed with cotton wool. He managed to turn his head and saw that Pearson and Merlyn looked little better than he felt.

"I feel rough," Merlyn groaned.

"Look on the bright side," Ferretti said. "At least you aren't feeling a bit of rough."

"Colonel!"

Ferretti frowned. "Sorry, Captain," he said. "That was...well, even for me that was fairly tasteless. Still, I am glad Tyus didn't drag you off to his sordid lair. That's just not an image I need." He groaned. "But now I have it anyway."

"Yes," Merlyn agreed. "Thank you so much, Sir." She shook her head. "It's funny, though. I had expected him to make more of an effort to persuade me."

"Maybe you're losing your charm," Pearson suggested.

"At least I had some to begin with," Merlyn replied, primly.

"Where's Lieutenant Roberts?" Pearson asked, realising for the first time that their comrade was missing.

Ferretti gave a decent impersonation of Sid James' dirty laugh.

"Sir," Merlyn chided. She sounded shocked to hear such a slur cast against a fellow officer.

Ferretti chuckled. "It amazes me, Captain Lloyd, that any woman can have a vicious left hook like yours and yet be so monumentally naïve."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Sir," Merlyn replied, primly.

"Naturally," Ferretti agreed. "Anyway, Captain; tell me what you make of these legends. Have you heard anything like it before?"

"I think so," Merlyn replied, doubtfully. "There are parallels in Earth folklore. From ancient Babylon to 19th century America there are stories about strange, sea-dwelling creatures; fish-men who live in underwater cities and emerge from the waves to prey on humans."

"They eat them?" Ferretti asked.

"If the victims are lucky."

"What do you mean?"

Merlyn grinned. "I amazes me, Colonel, that any man can have a vicious right cross like yours and yet be so monumentally naïve."

"Watch it, Captain," Ferretti warned, but he returned her smile.

"Sometimes there are stories about a community making a deal with these 'deep ones'," Merlyn went on. "There are..." Merlyn broke off with a colossal yawn. "Oh; sorry, Sir. Yes; communities that have dealt with them in exchange for prosperity."

"The fish have money?" Ferretti asked.

"No; the fish have fish." Merlyn looked suspicious. "The stories say that the offerings assure a good catch for the community, even when the rest of the coast is barren."

"Like...Like they have here?" Pearson asked.

"Yes," Merlyn replied. "And these stories are associated with squid-like idols, such as the ones we saw at the Gate."

Ferretti rose unsteadily to his feet. "And what are the offerings?" he demanded.

"Human sacrifices," Merlyn whispered, horrified. She tried to stand as well, but her limbs would not respond. The world seemed to be spinning around her, and she decided it would be easiest to wait for that motion to flip her upright.

"We have to..." Ferretti staggered against the wall. "Pearson..." He turned and looked, and saw that his captain and his sergeant were both unconscious. "We have to..." Almost in slow motion, Ferretti toppled like a felled tree to lie full-length on the wooden floor.

*

Roberts woke up with a pounding ache in his head that he recognised in a moment as a Mickey Finn hangover. Having rather more experience with such awakenings than most, he lay still with his eyes closed while he reconstructed the events that had brought him here and tried to get to grips with his surroundings.

 _Alright_ , he thought. _Begin at the very beginning. I'm in a ditch._

_Why am I in a ditch?_

_I left the feast with the others, and then..._ He thought back, remembering that Kahda had drawn him away from his team and... _Well, that didn't end up in a ditch,_ he mused, forcing himself to move on from that memory.

He had left Kahda and headed for the hut where his team mates had – presumably – been waiting. Halfway there, however, he had stopped to answer a call of nature and after that had become confused. Instead of the hut, he had headed for the camp on the bluff. The path had seemed steeper than he remembered it, and it had quickly become a struggle to put each foot in front of the other. He had fallen to one knee, then toppled sideways into the ditch.

 _Well that explains that._ From the pounding in his head, Roberts surmised that he had been drugged at the feast. That probably meant that the rest of his team were in no better shape than he. He listened carefully, and once he was certain that there was no-one nearby he opened his eyes and slowly dragged himself to his knees.

Carefully, Roberts made his way up to the crown of the bluff. He kept off the path, moving silently through the scrubby undergrowth. He heard voices ahead; a group of villagers speaking in hushed tones as they searched through the camp. There was a laugh, and he took advantage of the villagers' distraction to slither closer.

The camp had been overturned, their stores and personal effects strewn around. Roberts could not see what the villagers – a trio of thuggish-looking men – were laughing at, but they were distracted and he knew that he would not get another chance. He broke from cover in a rush, swept up the leg of the shattered observation post and leaped forward, swinging the aluminium strut like a bat and cracking it so hard against the first man's head that it cracked.

The second villager attacked Roberts, grappling for him with incredible strength and trying to overbear him by main force. Fortunately for Roberts, he was far more skilled than his assailant, and even half-drugged he was easily able to break the man's hold and drive stiffened fingers into his chest and the heel of his hand into the villager's face. The enemy fell, his face a bloody mess.

The third man had clearly not expected such unmitigated savagery from Roberts. With his boyish good-looks and clear, blue eyes people often expected him to be an innocent, but he was nothing of the kind. The man hesitated for the barest moment, and that was all the time that Roberts needed. He waded in, swinging his fists in sharp, powerful hooks, striking the man three times around the head.

Roberts stood over his fallen foes, breathing hard from the exertion of the fight. The third man moaned faintly, barely conscious. Roberts looked to see what had drawn such amusement from the villagers. He saw that they had reached the point of unpacking Merlyn's effects. His first assumption was that they had been sniggering over her underclothes like a pack of idiot high school jocks, but he soon realised that the laughs had been inspired by a leather-bound book that they had found there. It was still clutched in the hand of the first man he had killed.

Roberts bent down and picked up the book. He looked briefly inside and saw that it was a journal; not her mission log – Roberts knew the books she used for that and this was of a different, more expensive kind – but a personal diary. He snapped the book closed. He could not imagine that a good Catholic like Merlyn would be writing anything scandalous, but an Air Force officer did not read a superior's diary. That these men had been doing so, and laughing at it, enraged Roberts.

He leaned down and drew a rough knife from the third man's belt. Still unconscious, the man stirred only slightly as Roberts pushed the blade up beneath his chin and into his brain.

Leaving the bodies on the ground, Roberts turned his thoughts to the problem in hand. Clearly his comrades were still in danger, but he could not save them by rushing in half-cocked.

 _Order of business,_ he thought. _Number one, weapons and gear. Need to be quick; they must be looking and they obviously expected me to head back here. Number two...No. Number one, water,_ he decided, pressing his hand to his thudding temple. _Water and aspirin._

He made a quick search of his own scattered kit and found what was needed. The aspirin helped; the water probably helped more. His grogginess lessened and his head cleared a little.

 _Number two; weapons._ That was easy enough. The townsfolk had clearly recognised the red markings which warned that the weapons crates had been booby-trapped, and so he was able to reclaim a P90, pistol and zat from the undisturbed cache. He had been wearing his dagger before his encounter with Kahda but not after; he always kept a spare in his pack and he retrieved that. Grenades and claymores finished the weapons acquisition phase of his operation. Roberts emptied the last of his gear out of his pack, then loaded it up with his ordnance, a second P90 and as much ammunition as he could find. He dug out a smaller bag, loading that with a handful of clips and his comrades' zat'nik'tels. As an afterthought, he added Merlyn's diary.

Roberts checked over his preparations and nodded to himself in satisfaction. _Number three; decoy. Then on to number four; reconnaissance._

 

Getting to the village was easy; getting close was harder. Killing anyone else would have announced his presence far too openly and so he had to bypass the patrolling townsfolk by stealth. The cover was slight, but Roberts had been well trained. It was slow-going, but after a few nervous moments he made it to the shadows of the buildings.

He heard voices ahead and slipped closer. Soon he recognised the louder voice as that of Tyus; the softer was Kahda's.

"It was a stupid, inexcusable risk," Tyus was saying.

"It was necessary."

"You diluted the man's dosage in order to slake your own desires!" Tyus snapped. "You risked the most perfect sacrifice we have found in years..."

"It was necessary."

"It was foolish. Now we have lost track of your 'Cat'. Never mind; I will summon the Engulfer to deal with him."

"No!" Suddenly there was an edge of dangerous authority in Kahda's voice that sent a tingle along Roberts' spine.

 _Well that explains a few things_ , he thought to himself. _I never did have much time for submissive women._

"You will _not_ call upon the Engulfer to hunt my beloved," Kahda insisted, sternly. "He will attempt to rescue his comrades; we need only wait and keep watch. He will be captured, alive, _for me_. Do you understand, dear brother."

"I do not. Diran and I are in accord that it is too dangerous..."

Kahda snorted, derisively. "I do not much care for your accord, or for your understanding," she said. " _I_ am the Seer; you will obey me, as will the custodian. Now come. Your precious sacrifice will be waking; we must begin the Call."

Roberts waited as they moved away, then slipped through the shadows in their wake. A soft, rustling sound drew him up short. He made himself as still as he could be, trying to conceal himself by will alone as a figure emerged from a house on his left; a figure in a long, hooded robe who moved in an undulating glide.

This figure stopped and looked about, and for a moment Roberts was certain that it had seen him. A hand, pale-fleshed and shiny, emerged from one of the long sleeves and half-raised as though to point, but just as Roberts was sliding his finger into the trigger guard of his P90, a voice called out from behind the figure.

"Elder Zakar!" A young man hurried down the stairs after the Elder. He had the queer look and shambling gait that so many of the villagers shared. He hurried down and took the Elder by the arm. "It is this way, remember," he said, gently.

"I...There was something..."

Roberts shivered at the sound of the Elder's voice. It was a voice that gurgled and clung, reminding Roberts of the foul, cold stench of corpses. It had the sound of a dying man's voice; a rattle of breath, half-drowned in fluid-filled lungs.

"Perhaps you are having the visions now, Elder," the young man suggested, in a wheedling voice. "Maybe the change will come to you at last."

"Be silent," Zakar gurgled. "Do not patronise me you miserable sprat."

"Of course not, Elder." The young man took the elder's arm and led him away towards the beach.

Roberts was about to move when he felt breath on the back of his; cold, cloying breath which stank of the grave. Even before he turned, he knew that there was a robed elder standing behind him.

_*_

Merlyn rose slowly back to consciousness. There was a roof high above her, vaulted gables spanning the great open space. She sat up, and saw that she was in the church. The walls were hung with ancient, mouldering tapestries showing scenes of forests, with animals running between mighty trees; surely a relict of the planet's ancient past. That must be how Kahla knew the animals to which she had likened SG-7.

She turned then and saw the altar. Her blood froze.

Towering over her was a squatting, squid-faced figure carved from slick, mottled stone. It had a terrible, life-like quality that made her feel as though it were about to launch itself upon her. Its eyes seemed to stare malevolently at her, their gaze piercing her flesh and laying bare her soul. She felt a fear like nothing she had ever known before. Her breath came in short, gasping pants and her heart fluttered in her chest.

"You understand," Tyus said, having entered the church behind her. "You feel his power and you know that you are powerless before him. _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn,_ " he intoned, eyes glowing with religious zeal.

"Oh, God," she murmured, her voice quavering. "Oh, God help me."

"Your god can not help you," Tyus said. "Soon, you will bow to _my_ god."

Two robed figures came forward from behind Tyus. They advanced on Merlyn and grabbed her wrists; their hands were clammy and cold, and when she looked down at them, she saw that their skin was a nearly translucent film, stretched over morbid, mottled, green and black flesh.

"Your friends will serve as mates to the women of the sea-folk – of the Deep Ones – and then for the women of the town," Tyus explained. "Their blood will mingle with ours and make us stronger. But for you..." He cupped his hand on her face. "For you there will be a greater destiny."

"Don't...Don't touch me," Merlyn whispered in horror.

Tyus laughed. "I wish that it could be so," he assured her. "But a maiden so pure and chaste as you is not for the likes of me. _You_ are for Father Dagon himself. Of course, if you survive the strain of the mating and of bearing the great one's spawn, I do have my eye on you for myself."

"I would sooner die!"

"That is the most likely outcome, I must admit," Tyus allowed, regretfully. "But if you live, your mind will be broken. You will be in no state to refuse me." He turned his eyes to the Elders. "Bring her," he ordered.

 

The cold, sepulchral hands pulled on Merlyn's arms with inhuman strength. They hauled her out of the church and through the streets, kicking and struggling. She screamed and wept and pleaded, but to no avail. She was dragged to the beach and thrown down on the sand. Ferretti and Pearson lay nearby, gagged, their hands bound and both still unconscious. They must have eaten and drunk more than her at the feast; the effect of the drugs still held them.

Merlyn looked around and saw that she had been surrounded by the robed Elders, their unseen eyes boring into her like a pale shadow of the statue's glower. Further down the beach, the villagers stood expectantly. A ring of torches surrounded them all, casting their flickering light across the sands. At the edges of the gathering, on the brink of the sea, two massive horns, like those of some colossal ram, stood on wooden frames. Silver mouthpieces were attached to the tips of the horns, while their gaping mouths were submerged in the waves.

Standing up to his knees in the surf was Diran Balak, Custodian of the temple. Diran raised his hands over his head. "The Call!" he boomed, his voice coming deep and clear, even over the sound of the waves. "Children of God! Give tongue to the Call!"

" _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!_ " Tyus cried out.

" _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!_ " the villagers chorused. At the same time, the great horns sounded in three harsh, gurgling blasts. " _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn!_ " Over and over they chanted it, until the devotion was just a drone in Merlyn's ears, its sounds adding to her terror.

"They come!" Diran cried out. "The Deep Ones have answered the Call!"

Merlyn followed the gaze of the townsfolk and the last of her courage failed her. The sea was boiling, and out of the foam rose a horde of loping, scaly figures. They looked like a cross between fish and frogs, and to her horror Merlyn saw in their bulging eyes and broad, croaking mouths the source of the strange look of the townsfolk. Even worse, these weird, amphibian creatures hopped up the beach to the waiting villagers who met them with open arms. The first of them reached Diran and embraced him, pressing its – her? – slimy face to that of her human lover in a grotesque parody of a kiss.

A small group of Deep Ones, apparently unattached, came further up the beach. They reached the bound figures of Ferretti and Pearson, and with their long, web-fingered hands they began to paw and stroke at the bodies of the two men. Hemmed in by the Elders, quite unable to save herself, let alone her friends, Merlyn could only be thankful that her comrades remained mercifully unconscious.

"Wait!" Tyus bellowed. The townsfolk and their Deep One lovers stopped their kissing and caressing, turning to face Tyus.

"Restrain your passions, my children, my loves! This is a very special day, for we have, after all these years, found a sacrifice with which to honour the great Father Dagon! It has been many years since the last of our enemies on this world died out. It has been so long since any fresh blood has come to our village. But now we have blood and more!" He gestured towards the two bound airmen. "Now these people have come to us from afar and their strength will add to our own. But more importantly, they have brought this precious gift."

The two Elders grabbed Merlyn and hauled her to her feet for the people and Deep Ones to see. One groped at the back of her neck with its clammy hand, while the other ran its fingers through her short hair. The townsfolk gasped in amazement at the colour; the Deep Ones gulped excitedly. Only the females pawing at Pearson and Ferretti – the Colonel now starting to wake and struggle – did not turn to look at Merlyn.

"A virgin, pure and innocent!" Tyus declaimed. "A fitting tribute with which to honour the All-Father!"

"Call to him!" Kahda cried out, standing up behind her brother. Her pale face was flushed with exhilaration, but her eyes were clear and calculating. She still wore that dress; the blood-red dress that she had worn at dinner. Clearly she was not about to be upstaged by some redhead from another planet. "Call to him and he will come for her!"

"No!" Merlyn screamed.

Now the assembled voices rose once more in perfect unison. This time, they intoned but a single word; a name which they called out, time and again. "Dagon! Dagon!"

Merlyn's body began to tremble uncontrollably and her mind slipped further and further from rationality. Every time she thought that she had reached the limits of terror, some new horror emerged to drive her on towards total madness. Her eyes darted around her once more, but she was still surrounded; the only way to run was to the sea, and that was where the fear came from. She could feel it; some hostile force moving ever closer, a malevolent, predatory will whose focus was absolute. It rose to one end alone, to reach a single target; that target was Merlyn. She cried out and quailed under the attention of that will.

Then it rose.

Powerful, ponderous and impossibly fast, it rose from the depths of the ocean in a blast of spray. Vast, black-scaled paws slapped down onto the razor-crest of the ridge, and long, sinewy arms hauled up a hideous, squamous head, broad shoulders, a pallid expanse of soft-scaled breast, and last but not least two mighty legs which planted firmly on the coral.

"Dagon!" Tyus roared, ecstatically, as a rolling wave of surf washed up the beach.

Merlyn knew then that he was right. If this thing had its way with her, she would be in no state to resist Tyus. Indeed, she would probably go willingly to the man, just to feel the touch of something warm, and at least semi-human. Just the sight of Dagon was enough to break her mind; only her faith kept a vestige of herself intact.

Dagon bent his long legs nearly in half and with a ranine leap he flew from the reef to the shore. Broad, webbed feet hit the surf with an almighty splash. He towered over Merlyn, easily twenty feet tall, and gave a low, gulping croak of approval. Then he inclined his head to Tyus and his sister in acknowledgment, and at this signal the villagers all dropped to their knees in supplication. Only the Elders and the Deep Ones kept their feet. It was all that Merlyn could do to stay standing, but her faith kept her stubborn.

 _I kneel only to my God_ , she told herself. _I kneel only before God_.

The monstrous god of this world advanced on Merlyn, a vile, almost-human leer in his bulbous eyes. The barnacle-blistered, off-white scales of his stomach shone with a ghostly effulgence in the moonlight. Writhing tentacles waved from the anemones which clung to the wattles of his throat. It was hard to tell whether 'he' had any specifically male traits, but however the villagers hoped for him to impregnate her with his 'spawn', she could not believe it would be pleasant.

A single stride brought Dagon from the edge of the waves to where Merlyn stood, frozen. Another gurgling croak rattled from his throat and he reached down towards her.

"Oh please, God," she whispered, feeling her mind falling into madness.

_KRAKA-CHOOM!_

A hundred pairs of eyes turned as one to look at a great plume of flame and smoke that rose from the bluff. Almost at once, lesser explosions shook the ground, tearing at the houses on the edges of the town. The townsfolk rose to their feet, voices raised in panicked cries as they milled around in confusion. Even Dagon's head rose in alarm, and something like fear flashed across his frog's face.

"You're no God," Merlyn whispered to herself. Dagon was not all powerful, and neither was his master; the squid thing whose statue had cowed her. What was happening now was beyond his control and – she realised in a moment – so was she. Somehow they had used fear to control her, neutralise her; but no longer. Her head was clear.

Merlyn turned to the Elders behind her, each swathed in robes, a heavy knife at their belt. All but one was staring at the flames and as she watched a small object fell from the sleeve of that one. In amazement, she recognised the object for what it was.

It was a remote detonator.

The Elder pulled his robe open, revealing SGC fatigues beneath. He reached beneath the robe and lifted out a P90. Merlyn's heart rose, but in another moment she saw that the real Elders had spotted this un-Elderly behaviour; in a heartbeat, Roberts would have no room to use the PDW. Clearly, he had thought of this, however.

"Captain!" he called, and he hefted the weapon up and tossed it to Merlyn. "Behind you!"

Merlyn caught the P90 and turned, dropping into a crouch so that Dagon's hand swept over her head. She raised the weapon to her shoulder and drew it in tight.

Dagon gurgled menacingly. His eyes blazed and a feeling of impotence washed over Merlyn.

This time, however, she recognised the sensation for what it was. This was not her own fear, it was some unholy influence exerted by Dagon's master, and she would not bow to it.

Merlyn's eyes lit with a cold fire. "I don't speak fish," she whispered. She pulled the trigger.

 

The nearest Elder grabbed for Roberts even as he threw the P90, but with his free hand he drew the knife from his belt and left it lodged in the Elder's face. Like the one he had killed before – the previous owner of his robe – the Elder's flesh felt soft and rubbery, and beneath the hood he could see that its face was more like that of a Deep One than a human. A second Elder clutched at him; Roberts went to his own dagger and sliced through the grasping fingers. He followed up with a stab to the gut, then twisted the knife free. He slashed wildly at the face of another charging fish-man, and desperately wished that his robe had been capacious enough to conceal _two_ P90s.

 

 The P90 pressed back into Merlyn's shoulder. The first bullets struck Dagon's face, shredding his right eye and puncturing one of his anemones, but failing to make much impact on his scales. Merlyn forced her aim down and Dagon screamed in pain. Great, bloody holes were torn in the soft, while scales of the monster-god's belly and he staggered back in pain. Merlyn released the trigger.

Dagon clutched at his broken chest, gurgling moistly in pain and confusion. He tottered for a long moment, then fell hard to the beach and lay still. The townsfolk stopped in alarm. For a moment the only sound on the beach was the crackling of flames and the dull, sucking sound as Roberts freed his knife from the flesh of his latest victim.

"Stop!" Tyus roared, running forward, a machete in his hand. "Stop this blasphemy!" he demanded.

Merlyn turned to look at the man, and now _her_ gaze made _him_ quail. "You wanted Dagon's leftovers, didn't you?" she asked, and then she smiled, coldly. "Well; you're welcome to them." She pulled the trigger and held it down. A single shot rang out, and a single bullet struck Tyus in the face and blew out the back of his head.

In the moment that followed, Roberts managed to throw two spare clips to Merlyn, then the Elders were on him again. Merlyn stooped to reload, firing at point blank range into the bodies of the closest Deep Ones as they advanced.

Two more Elders fell before Roberts. He was breathing hard now, running on pure adrenaline, and the front of his body was caked in blood. The second Elder dropped too fast for Roberts to withdraw his knife, but with a moment's respite, Roberts reached into his robes for another weapon. He turned to seek the next opponent, but the surviving Elders had fallen away from him.

Kahda stood in front of him now, a crossbow cradled in her hands. The tip of the bolt was pointing at his throat.

"Move your hands from your belt," Kahda said.

Roberts complied and slowly, carefully, he held his arms out to his sides, sleeves flopping awkwardly over his hands. "My friends and I are leaving," he said, softly.

"No," she replied. "You are _mine_."

"I don't want to hurt you," Roberts said, "and I know that you don't want to hurt me."

"You will stay with me, or I will kill you," Kahda insisted, but there was uncertainty in the Seer's voice for the first time.

Roberts lifted his hand towards her, and fired his zat'nik'tel from under the ragged folds of his robe. Khada collapsed, a look of shock in her eyes. She was clearly surprised that Roberts had shot her; he was as surprised at himself that he did not shoot her again. Instead he turned and fired on the Deep Ones who were now standing guard over their prey; Ferretti and Pearson.

As Roberts ran over to cut their comrades' bonds, Merlyn fell back to cover them, firing short bursts into the crowd, which now hung back in fear.

"Any more ammunition, Lieutenant?" she asked.

Roberts handed her one more clip. "The rest is up in the dunes," he replied. "I couldn't carry it under the robes."

"This won't hold them for long," she noted.

"Then we don't stay," Ferretti said, his voice still a little slurred. With his hands free, he struggled up, spitting to clear the taste of the gag from his mouth. Roberts handed him the zat and moved to help Pearson. "Roberts; you're on point. Merlyn, watch our six."

"Yes, Sir," Roberts agreed. He helped the groggy Pearson to his feet then handed him off to Ferretti. "I've set a claymore line at the edge of the town and a second in the dunes. I'll wait for you to pass then set them off on any pursuers."

"Good work, Lieutenant," Ferretti agreed. "Let's..." His voice died as he looked out to sea. The water seemed to be boiling, as it had done when the Deep Ones arrived, only much more so.

"They're coming for us," Merlyn said.

Ferretti nodded. "Let's move," he said.

The team scrambled up the beach and through the town. Merlyn turned from time to time, but there was no sign of pursuit. Only as they were entering the empty streets did the first of the great wave of Deep Ones come leaping up the beach after them. Merlyn considered firing, but realised that it was hopeless. She ran with the rest.

*

Kahda dragged herself up, body aching from the zat blast.

"You fool!" Diran bellowed, standing over her.

"What is happening?" Kahda demanded.

"The Deep Ones are pursuing the intruders," Diran replied. "I am fixing the mistakes that you and your brother made."

"You must not kill them!"

"Be silent you treacherous slut!" Diran snapped.

Kahda sighed. "Do as you will," she said. "It will make no difference. This is all as it was meant to be."

"What! What are you talking about?"

"This was my dream, Custodian," Kahda replied, a fanatical shine in her eyes. "It is the beginning of our destiny."

*

SG-7 ran through the muddy streets. The air around them was filled with the sound of rattling. With a sick horror, Merlyn realised that the Deep Ones were leaping over the houses to try and overtake them. She turned her weapon upwards and fired a short burst at a moving shadow. At the front of the line, Roberts started firing the zat at the rooftops.

They broke out into the open dunes, the enemy hot on their heels. A Deep One flew through the air and dropped down in front of them and Ferretti blasted it. Merlyn killed another and then Roberts called out: "Fire in the hole!"

SG-7 threw themselves down. A deafening crack filled the air and a mass of ball bearings ripped through the pursuing Deep Ones. The first few ranks fell dead, the next few collapsed, moaning and croaking in pain. Then SG-7 were up and running again, up into the dunes where Roberts fired the second line of claymores and retrieved the other P90.

A few moments of fire and the remnants of the horde fled back towards the town.

"Let's not give them time to regroup," Ferretti suggested.

*

"This is all unimportant," Kahda insisted.

"Unimportant! They have killed dozens of our brothers and sisters!"

"Only because you insisted on sending them after the outsiders."

"They have killed Father Dagon!"

"His time had come; his purpose was served."

Diran turned away from her. "Begin the Call!" he demanded of the townsfolk. "Summon the Engulfer!"

*

"Something's coming!" Merlyn warned. She could not see what, but something was approaching, fast. It was huge; a shadowy mass boiling across the landscape towards them. "Something big."

"Well, they're too late," Ferretti replied.

Pearson finished dialling Earth's address and the Stargate thundered into life. Roberts keyed in his IDC and as the event horizon settled he hit the transmit key. After a moment, an acknowledgement flickered on the wrist panel.

"Go!" Ferretti ordered.

"You're still shaky from the drugs, Sir," Roberts insisted. "You and Sergeant Pearson go first."

Ferretti nodded; the lieutenant's logic was incontrovertible. If he or Pearson were last through, a relapse could kill them. They plunged into the rippling surface and they were gone.

"I'll set a charge on the DHD," Roberts said. "Then..."

_Tekeli-li!_

Merlyn and Roberts looked up at the echoing, inhuman cry.

"Screw that!" Merlyn said.

"Amen, Captain."

They turned and leaped for the Stargate.

_Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!_

*

_Stargate Command, Earth_

Merlyn landed hard on the ramp. "Shut it down!" she bellowed. "Close the iris!"

The trinium-alloy shield circled closed over the Stargate. With a reverberating _clang_ , something struck the iris. The gate remained active, and Merlyn realised that the iris was shivering and rattling as though something were still striking it.

"What the hell is going on in there?" General O'Neill demanded.

The noise stopped. After a moment, the Gate shut down.

"What was that?" Ferretti demanded.

"Something _very_ big," Merlyn replied.

_*_

_P8F-951_

The townsfolk were in a state of despair. They lay on the beach, moaning and writhing, wringing their hands and tugging at their hair. The surviving Deep Ones squatted in solemn, brooding anger, giving no sign of emotion beyond the occasional dispirited croak. Only Kahda seemed unaffected by the air of doom that hung over the settlement. She stood, wrapped in her blood-red dress, flanked by the last three Elders, and spoke.

"Listen to me, my children!" Kahda called. "This is no time for despair. Go back to your homes –what remains of them – and gather your belongings. The time has come for us to leave this place."

"What are you talking about?" Drian demanded. "This is our home. It was ordained by God that we should dwell here."

"Yes," Kahda agreed. "But now he has commanded us to come forth once more. The Great Eye has been opened, and now we must leave this world forever." She wrapped her arms protectively around her abdomen. "I am with child by the stranger known as Tim Roberts. It was in order that this child be born that the outsiders were summoned here by God, for the child will be the Promised One. By his hand shall God be set free from his prison to walk once more among the stars!"

"You are _insane_!" Diran snapped. "You speak blasphemy!"

"Blasphemy? All those years tending the temple and you never once looked at the texts, did you?" Kahda mocked. "If you had bothered to look up from your petty concerns you would know that God himself ordained that we would dwell here until the dying days, when strangers would come and the Promised One be got upon us. I dreamed all of this, Diran," she went on in a softer tone. She laid a gentle hand on his arm and fixed him with her compelling eyes. "Trust in the visions that God has sent to me, Diran. Have faith and help me. This world has nothing for us anymore; it is time for our people to pass through the Great Eye to R'lyeh and prepared for the Great One's rising."

"It is so!" Elder Zakar hissed, excitedly. "Can you not see? That is why the change never came to me. I was never called to join our Deep One brothers in the deep because it was time for us to leave. Only in the waters of R'lyeh will I be transformed. She speaks the truth, Diran."

"You stupid old man!" The Custodian shook off Kahda's hand. "She would destroy us all for her infatuation with the stranger. If the Promised One was to have come of these strangers, it was from the mating of Father Dagon and the female and that union was thwarted – and our all-father slain – by her desperation to copulate!" He reached out and seized Kahda's arm. "I will not let this go any further."

Diran drew his knife and raised it for the kill, but a scaly hand grasped his wrist and held it tight. He turned and looked into the face of Kth'thalya-naï, his Deep One lover.

"Let go of me," he demanded. "She must be stopped. We can not leave Ptanis-yao!"

"The city under the waves will endure without you, Diran," Kth'thalya-naï replied in her burbling voice. "We shall endure, and in time we shall find new loves; new, warm partners to bring new blood to our kingdom. Until then, the Deep Ones shall dwell amid the wonder and glory of Ptanis-yao, and you shall be blessed to see the marvels of R'lyeh."

"No!" Diran roared. "We belong here." He shook off Kth'thalya-naï's hand and struck for Kahda with the knife, but his lover grappled him from behind, holding him in an inescapable grip.

"I see that you will never leave us to see those splendours," the Deep One crooned, sadly. "Very well, my love. You shall come with us back to Ptanis-yao. The others shall go."

"But...but...I can not breathe water," Diran protested. "I have not Changed."

Kth'thalya-naï lifted him in her arms. "It was your wish to stay," she said. "Perhaps you are closer to the Change than you believed. If it is the will of the Great One that you shall live, so be it. If it is the will of the Great One that you shall die, so be it. Fare you well, Seer of Dreams," she added, addressing herself reverently to Kahda. " _Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn_."

Kahda curtseyed, deeply. "In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming," she replied. "But not for much longer. He will rise," she promised the Deep One, "and the universe will shudder to its foundations."

"Faith will be rewarded," Kth'thalya-naï promised. She turned, and loped down to the waves. She carried her struggling lover down into the water, and her squamous brethren followed her.

"Come," Kahda told the townsfolk. "Gather your things and come to the Great Eye. R'lyeh awaits us."

There were no other arguments.

*

_Stargate Command_

Merlyn did not look up at the knock on her door. She kept her head down, studying the photographs she had taken of the statues which watched over the Gate on 951.

"Captain?"

Merlyn rubbed her eyes. "Lieutenant Roberts."

"I think this is yours," Roberts said, proffering her journal.

"Where did you get that?" Merlyn demanded, snatching the book from Roberts' hands.

"Some of the locals were reading it; I took it back from them. I didn't read it," he added.

"I'm glad to hear it," she snapped. Her expression lost its sharpness. "Thank you," she added. She yawned again.

"Weren't you supposed to get some sleep?" Roberts asked.

"So Dr Smith tells me."

"Well, Smitty's usually pretty good at these things," Roberts reminded her. "That's why they call her a doctor."

"Can't sleep," she replied. "I thought I'd try and make something of these inscriptions before the debriefing."

"You've got another twelve hours, at least, until Smitty lets the Colonel and Sergeant Pearson out of the infirmary and you look like crap."

Merlyn looked up at him. "I beg your pardon."

"You look like crap, Ma'am," Roberts corrected himself, with a wry smile.

"Yes; well a giant fish man tried to rape me, lieutenant. I challenge you to look any better under the circumstances."

Roberts walked over and pulled up a spare chair. "That...All that stuff that Tyus was saying, Merlyn...?"

"All true," she replied. "I'm not embarrassed about it. I've never married so I've never had sex; it's that simple."

"I see."

"That being said," she added. "It is the kind of thing that provokes rather a lot of talk around the locker room, so I would be grateful if you didn't mention it."

"It goes no further," Roberts agreed. "If you agree, I think that our reports should show that SG-7 were to be _eaten_ by the Deep Ones. The others were too out of it to know what was happening and..."

"I understand," Merlyn interrupted. "Thank you, Timothy."

Roberts laughed, a little nervously. "Let's stick with Roberts," he suggested. "But believe me, Merlyn; the last person in the world I want to cross is you."

"I can't think why that should be," Merlyn admitted. "I'm only a captain, and an academic at that; you must know scarier people."

"Well, you handled yourself pretty well for an academic," Roberts assured her. "But more than that...Captain; I'm not going to mess with anyone who can fire a P90 into the monster-god who's trying to rape her, and have the presence of mind to keep one bullet back for his priest. Or was that just a lucky chance?"

Merlyn shrugged. "I thought I had between three and five remaining."

"Not bad counting for nine-hundred rounds a minute." Roberts shook his head. "You're a _very_ scary lady, Captain Lloyd."

For a moment, Merlyn looked as though she were about to protest, but in the end she just nodded her head. "Thank you, Lieutenant. From you, I take that as a great compliment."

He smiled. "That's how I meant it. I mean, you were pretty gone for a while but..."

"Something affected me," she admitted. "But then I remembered something that the Mother Superior once told me."

Roberts raised an eyebrow. "Mother Superior?"

Merlyn ignored the question. "She said: 'Ask and you shall receive, but always remember; God moves in mysterious ways'. A case in point: When I needed help and I prayed for aid, it came. It came as a highly-trained killer with a satchel full of C4, rather than an angel with a flaming sword, but it came, and right when I needed it the most. For that as well, I thank you."

Roberts nodded his understanding, then rose to his feet. "Goodnight, Captain. Get some sleep. If you can."

"I'll try," she lied.

"This has really rattled you, hasn't it?"

"Well, it wasn't a lot of fun."

"But...it wasn't Dagon, was it? That was bad, but it was something else." Roberts looked at her, shrewdly. "What happened in that temple, Captain?"

"I felt something," Merlin replied.

"What?"

She fixed him with her dark eyes. "Pure evil."

*

General Jack O'Neill looked around the briefing room at SG-7. Ferretti and Pearson looked rough, but Lloyd and Roberts, while physically sound, had a haunted light in their eyes that worried him. Their stories did not entirely convince him; it was not that they were evasive, and he did not suspect them of concealing anything important, but he was sure that they were hiding something. He would have to talk to them privately, since they obviously did not want to speak in front of the rest of the team.

"So; any thoughts?" O'Neill asked.

Merlyn looked embarrassed.

"Captain?" O'Neill pressed. "Any theories to offer? Anything that might explain, say..." He picked up a piece of paper; an Air Force financial form. "Just to take an example, a requisition for several reference texts, including one priced at two hundred thousand dollars."

Ferretti gave a low whistle.

"Sir..."

"Two hundred _thousand_ dollars. I tend to feel the books you people order are over-priced when you ask for two _hundred_ dollars."

"Dr Collister approved the expenditure," Merlyn assured the General. "Books that old don't come cheap; there's a substantial additional price involved in persuading people to part with them."

"So what is this...Necronomolos?"

"The Necronomicon of Abdul al-Azred," Merlyn replied. "It's one of the most infamous treatises on demons and magical practices ever written, but it is one of the few even vaguely reliable texts which will support my translation work on the statues."

"Is it vital?" O'Neill asked.

"I think so, Sir," Merlyn replied. "You see, there are references to creatures like those we encountered in cultures across the world, from prehistoric times to the present day. Schuster of Oxford and Reilly of Stanford have done some work identifying possible common roots of these stories. Dr Collister has been correlating their work with a number of finds from SG reconnaissance missions and the implications were already worrying. They seemed to indicate an ancient civilization; one that had left some psychic mark on all of humanity. But it gets worse. A number of texts from the Atlantis site suggest that the Ancients had the same legends. They speak of 'the Old Ones', who were, are and will be. They talk about dark things that move between the stars and..."

"Ah!" O'Neill snapped, raising a warning finger. "Ah. Stop. Just the basics, Captain."

Merlyn nodded. "Sorry, Sir. What we're dealing with is something very old, and very powerful and very, very dangerous. You saw one of their artefacts yourself, General O'Neill."

"I did?"

"It's been written up in the files as unknown artefact #1763; aka, the Jolly Green Space Gun."

"Oh," Jack said. "That thing."

"Sir?" Ferretti asked.

Merlyn gave the General a questioning look. He nodded.

"It was a weapon salvaged by the Goa'uld Czernobog," she explained. "We have statements from the four members of SG-1 and anecdotal statements from several Jaffa and a Goa'uld, all of whom reported feeling a sense of malice emanating from the weapon. I felt the same thing from the statue in that temple. It almost overwhelmed me."

"Lay it on the line, Captain," O'Neill said. "How bad are we talking here?"

"The worst, Sir. To judge by the stories, these things have reached between the stars in a way that we've never experienced before. I don't know that they can be classed as a clear and present danger, but if they were ever to turn their attention to us, they would be the most dangerous foes we had ever faced. They possessed a level of technology that seemed magical even to the Ancients and there are still people worshipping them as Gods."

Merlyn shuffled through her papers. "My translations are incomplete, but I believe that I can extract Gate addresses from the statue inscriptions; there are numerous seven-sign clusters. We can follow this up, assess the threat and you can decide whether any further action is appropriate."

"Alright," O'Neill agreed. "I'll take this under consideration. As of now, SG-7 are on two weeks leave. No options, no study time; I want you all off the base and for preference out of the state. I'll okay the purchase of this and any other texts you think you might need and I'll assign the personnel and resources to carry out whatever research it warrants. Now, you've all been shaken up by this. By rights I should keep you away from anything even remotely like this..."

"Sir!" Ferretti protested.

"With respect, General..." Merlyn began.

O'Neill held up his hands for silence. "But I'll make a deal with you all. See the trauma shrink, pass the psych, and last those two whole weeks without coming back on base, phoning the lab or doing private research in the library and I'll assign SG-7 to investigate the extent of the threat posed by these 'Old Ones'."

"Thank you, Sir," Ferretti replied.

"I'm not sure 'thank you' is the correct response," O'Neill replied. He looked around the table, marking each of them with his gaze for a moment. Then he nodded, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "Dismissed."

**Author's Note:**

> SG-7 are my only original characters to date to appear in a fanfic of their fanfic.
> 
> The author freely acknowledges that the comments on relativity contained within this work are pure codswallop.


End file.
